


such a sweet surprise

by epoenine



Series: sweet dream, saccharine [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Communication, Established Relationship, Healthy Relationships, Kent Parson's Implied Redemption Arc, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 08:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10184630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epoenine/pseuds/epoenine
Summary: Bitty caught on fairly quickly—he had firsthand experience with seeing Jack fall in love, you know.





	

**Author's Note:**

> god. okay. i've never written for check please before, so keep that in mind. i tried... so hard to keep this in character. there's barely any accessible information abt these characters all in one place so if i got any details wrong i apologize i truly looked so hard the wikia is lacking and i can only search through the webcomic so many times
> 
> heads up formatting puts a space after every single italicized word and i hate it but it's too much to change
> 
> i'm incredibly attached to this. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!
> 
> there's a complete list of sex stuff at the end notes if you want a warning!
> 
> check please and all its characters are owned by ngozi
> 
> title is from the song cherry pie by warrant

It was Bitty’s idea, at first. Jack and Kent had started texting again, sharing little things about their day and telling each other good luck before a game, working their way towards chirping and teasing each other, tentatively rebuilding their friendship. Bitty caught on fairly quickly—he had firsthand experience with seeing Jack fall in love, you know—and he eventually put two and two together.

Bitty was surprised, to say the least, when he couldn’t bring himself to feel even slightly jealous. He saw Jack blushing high on his cheeks after reading a text from Kent, saw Jack quietly laugh at whatever it was Kent said this time, saw Jack turn focused and concentrated whenever he could catch the end of Kent’s post-game interview.

Despite all these things—knowing Kent was flirting, knowing that it was getting to Jack—all he could feel was fondness settle deep in his chest, warm and content knowing that Jack was happy and safe, that everything was okay.

Bitty was aware that he shouldn’t be okay with this, with watching Jack fall in love with someone else, with _Kent_ , of all people. They had a history, they’ve known each other for longer, and, soon enough, it seemed like Kent would just be Bitty’s replacement, like all paths would lead to the end of Jack and Bitty, the continuation of Jack and Kent.

Bitty knew that wasn’t going to happen. Jack’s feelings for Kent might be resurfacing, but Jack’s feelings for Bitty weren’t going away at all. Bitty knew he had nothing to worry about; underneath each kiss they shared, there was the slow thrum of love, and it reassured Bitty each time.

“Jack, honey,” Bitty had said, the first time, with his legs spread across Jack’s thighs, his hand wrapped around Jack’s cock. Jack was sitting up, mouthing messily at Bitty’s neck, and it was the perfect position for Bitty to press his lips just under Jack’s ear and quietly say, “You’re so good for me, all the time, aren’t you?” His grip on Jack’s cock was loose, the strokes he gave him slow and teasing. Jack was muffling his noises into Bitty’s skin. “Right, Jack? So good, all for me.”

“Yeah, Bits,” Jack answered, his voice quiet, strained with the tension of holding himself back from fucking up into Bitty’s fist. “Yeah, for you.”

Bitty wrapped his hand a little tighter around him, gave him just a little bit more and listened to the small moan falling from Jack’s lips, right before he said, “So perfect, you’d be good for anyone, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

Jack’s hips stuttered, his eyes blinking through the haze clouding them. Bitty looked at him encouragingly, and after a pause, Jack replied, in a quiet, small voice, “Yeah.”

Bitty gave him a smile, reassuring and familiar and enough to settle Jack into losing the tension along his shoulders. The hand wrapped around Jack’s cock stroked him a little bit quicker, but not by much.

“Who’d you be good for?” Bitty asked him, his tone casual, stroking Jack’s cock in earnest now. “Your teammates, Jack? Would you get on your knees for them?”

“Bitty,” Jack pleaded, desperate as he asked for—Bitty wasn’t sure, exactly, but he knew it wasn’t for him to stop. His hips pushed up and up. “ _Please_ , god.”

Bitty shushed him, used his other hand to brush Jack’s hair back soothingly, continuing with, “You’d be good for anyone I asked, right, sweetheart?” Jack nodded, a little wildly, his eyes shut tight. “What about Kent, would you be good for him?”

“Oh, god, Bits, please—” Jack choked out, hiding his face in the crook of Bitty’s neck as his hips jerked wildly.

“Get on your knees for him, too?” Bitty asked, feeling Jack’s thighs tremble underneath him. “Suck his cock until he comes—In your mouth,” Bitty told him, jerking Jack off quicker, now, “On your face, Jack? Let him mark you up, make you look so pretty.”

“ _Shit_ ,” he let out, turning it into a groan at the last second. He came over Bitty’s knuckles, gasping for air and shuddering.

Bitty kissed his temple, said with his lips brushed against his skin, “Jack, honey, you’re so perfect.” He wrapped his hand, the one still covered in come, around his own cock, stroked it quickly with a tight grip. He got through a dozen strokes before he came, sighing softly into Jack’s ear. Another kiss pressed against Jack’s temple.

“What—” Jack began, after clearing his throat with a small cough.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” Bitty told him, pressing a gentle kiss to Jack’s lips. “We can talk about it in the morning, alright? Let me clean you up, and then we can go to sleep. You wanna be the big spoon or the little spoon?”

Jack did as he was told, lying back and letting Bitty clean him up with the boxers that he had kicked off at the beginning. He shifted a little, looking only a tiny bit uncomfortable, and said, “Uh, little spoon?”

Bitty smiled at him, leaning over to kiss his forehead before settling down on the bed next to him. “Of course, honey. Pancakes in the morning?” Jack nodded as he rolled over, curling in on himself. Bitty wrapped him arms around him and pressed his lips right between his shoulderblades. “Perfect,” he said.

They talked about it, at the table over breakfast that Bitty made. It took a lot of gentle prompting on Bitty’s part, a lot of Jack not meeting his eyes and stuttering over his words, but Bitty was insistent on talking about it fully clothed, with no distractions.

Jack was never shy, never said something when he meant something else, but asking for what he wanted was always a challenge, especially when he felt like he didn’t deserve it. Jack felt greedy.

They worked through it.

Now, Bitty texted Kent off and on. Kent thought Bitty hated him, or, at the very least, barely tolerate him—but he’d be wrong.

Kent was sarcastic, which made Bitty laugh, and self deprecating, which made Bitty’s heart ache with misplaced guilt.

They didn’t have much to talk about, besides hockey. Bitty wishing Kent luck before a game, congratulating him on a win, telling him to stop carrying the weight of a loss on his shoulders alone. Bitty’s chirping was ruthless, and it often left Kent unable to come up with a witty response. Bitty sent him pictures of whatever he cooked that day, and, sometimes, when he was feeling particularly mean, that included dessert.

Jack was working on talking about it, with words instead of muffled sounds of agreement and the nodding of his head. He didn’t think he would ever _have_ to talk about it, thought that he could just ignore his attraction to Kent, but Bitty noticed it, _welcomed_ it, even, and that was—shocking.

“You wanna invite him for dinner?” Bitty asked, because he knew that Kent was staying in Boston for a day after his game against the Bruins, and he could probably make it to down to Providence after he played, leave the next day open for whatever happens. Jack was back from his workout, getting undressed for a pre-game nap, slipping out of his worn Falconers shirt and stepping out of his pants. As Jack reached to pull on sweatpants, Bitty said, “Leave it. So, should I text him?” He crowded Jack up against the door to the bathroom.

“Uh, if you want,” Jack answered, pulling Bitty towards him. His hands settled low on Bitty’s hips as he leaned back against the surface, fingers shifting restlessly with—not nervousness, but anticipation. “What are you gonna say?”

Bitty shrugged, brushed his hands along the expanse of Jack’s shoulders. “I don’t know, ask him if he wants to come over for dinner, tell him I’ll make his favorite pie. He couldn’t turn that down, right?” he asked, a smile on his face, and Jack shook his head in response, lowered his head down in a silent request for a kiss. Bitty kept it short, just a lingering press of his lips, and Jack chased after him when Bitty pulled away. “D’you think he’d put out, on the first date? You know him better than I do, Jack. Is he easy for it?” His voice was low, speaking softly right underneath Jack’s ear as he ran his hands down Jack’s arms. He kept his tone casual, light enough as if they were still discussing what’s on the menu for dinner.

“Yeah,” Jack said, breathily, his throat tight enough that he sounded choked.

“Maybe we can get him to stay the night, have him sleep in the guest bedroom. I’d fuck you hard enough that you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet. Would he listen? Get himself off thinking about us?” Jack made a strangled sound, hid his face in the crook of Bitty’s neck and tried to distract himself by biting kisses there. “Stop that,” Bitty told him, got ahold of his hair and tugged until his face was back up. Bitty gave him another kiss, a reward, this one as equally as short as the last but just a little less chaste. He palmed the front of Jack’s boxers, listened for the accompanying whine. “D’you think he’d watch us, if we asked?”

Jack screwed his eyes shut tight, said with gritted teeth, “Bitty, please.”

“Kent would see how good you are, how perfect you are, all for me,” Bitty told him, the palm of his hand rubbing along the hard length of Jack’s cock. “Would you want him to see that, Jack? What a good boy you are?” Jack nodded his head, jaw locked, eyes still closed tightly. Bitty used his free hand to tug on Jack’s hair like he did before. “Answer me, honey.”

“Yeah, Bits,” Jack replied, tension easing out of his shoulders as he slumped forward.

“He’d see how good you are, how you take whatever I give you, how you ask for what you want,” Bitty said, stroking Jack’s hair back off his forehead, running his fingers through it soothingly. “So polite and well-mannered, Jack. We wouldn’t just leave him like that, would we?” Jack shook his head, a little bit lost in the rhythm of his hips shifting up into Bitty’s hand. Bitty turned away to lean back against the wall, pulling Jack around so that he was in front of him. Resting his hands on Jack’s shoulders, he pushed down, gently, and Jack sunk to his knees, laying his cheek on Bitty’s thigh. “You okay, honey?”

Jack nodded, looked up at Bitty with an overwhelming amount of trust in his eyes, and answered, “Yeah.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Bitty said, easing his briefs down enough that Jack could get to his cock. “Can you show me how good you are?”

Nodding a little, Jack pressed his lips to the head of Bitty’s cock, mouthing at it before taking it deeper. His hands settled on the muscles of Bitty’s thighs, steadying himself.

Bitty sighed softly, slumping further down and tangling his fingers in Jack’s hair, murmured, “So good, Jack, honey.” Jack looked up at him, through the dark fan of his eyelashes, and Bitty had to swallow down the fondness and affection he felt. As Jack’s eyes fluttered shut, Bitty brought up the hand that wasn’t in Jack’s hair to rub his thumb along the edge of Jack’s cheekbone. “You’re so beautiful, Jack.”

Jack, whenever he got on his knees for Bitty, took sucking cock as seriously as being on the ice. His tongue was soft on the underside of Bitty’s cock, and, slowly, Jack took the rest of him into his mouth. Bitty could feel his cock pushing at the back of Jack’s throat, fluttering around him in an attempt to swallow. When tears were gathering at the corner of Jack’s eyes, he pulled off with a gasp, resting his forehead on Bitty’s thigh as he tried to catch his breath.

Before Bitty could do anything more than run his fingers soothingly through Jack’s hair, Jack had him in his mouth again. He swallowed around him, until he couldn’t anymore and had to come back up for air.

If Jack’s face hadn’t been red before, it definitely was now, flushed from both arousal and exertion. He pulled back with a wet sounding gasp and said, “Bits, please.”

Bitty wrapped his fingers around his cock, stroking himself quickly, his grip tight. He looked down at Jack, who had his eyes closed, his mouth parted, his lips red and shining with his own spit. Bitty gasped as he came, on the bridge of Jack’s nose and across his ruddy cheeks, the last of it landing in Jack’s open and waiting mouth. As his body gave one last shudder, Jack gave a final open-mouthed kiss to the head of Bitty’s cock. Bitty cleaned Jack off with his fingers, pushing them between Jack’s parted lips, jolting just a little at the way Jack’s mouth closed around his knuckles, tongue moving against his fingertips as he cleaned them off.

Bitty crouched down next to Jack, peppering his face with small kisses. “You were so good, Jack, so perfect,” he said, reaching into Jack’s boxers to wrap his hand around his cock. Instead of teasing, Bitty stroked him with the intent of making him come, his pace steady and his grip firm. Bitty kissed Jack before pulling back to say, “You’re amazing, sweetheart. Does Kent know? Does he know how good you are?” Jack couldn’t answer, he was too busy trying to get some air, breathing out low moans that came from deep within his chest. “I can’t wait to show him, Jack, he’s gonna be so proud of you, just like I am.”

“Please, god, Bitty,” Jack said, because was all he ever could say when this happened. Jack jerked his hips up, made a keening noise, and came all over Bitty’s fist inside his boxers. His hips jolted through the aftershocks, Bitty’s hand still curled around him, drawing whines out of his throat.

“Shh, you’re so good, Jack,” Bitty said, his fingers shifting minutely, making it almost impossible for Jack to catch his breath.

Jack made a sound that was a lot like a sob, ducking his head so that he could rest his forehead against Bitty’s shoulder. Jack said, with twitching hips, “Please, _please_ , god, Bitty, it’s so—” he broke off to whine again. “It’s _so_ _much_ , please.”

“You want me to stop?” Bitty asked, using his free hand to smooth back the hair on Jack’s forehead. Jack looked gorgeous, absolutely wrecked—his face flushed the brightest red, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath like he just came off the ice, his hands curled into fists so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. “Jack?” Bitty stopped moving his hand, waited for Jack’s answer patiently.

Jack tucked his face against Bitty, feeling overwhelmed. Jack gave the tiniest, most subtle shake of his head, and as Bitty started to drag his fingertips over Jack’s softening cock, Jack let out an answering whimper.

“Please, Bitty, _please_ ,” Jack said, his voice so quiet it sounded hoarse. Bitty kept touching him, light enough so Jack wouldn’t pull away, but it still made him shake. Bitty waited until he could see tears shining underneath Jack’s eyes, and when he pulled his hand away, Jack slumped against him, utterly exhausted.

Bitty let him get his breathing under control, let him uncurl his fist and stretch out his fingers, testing the feeling in them. He murmured soothingly, continuing to smooth Jack’s hair back with the hand that was clean.

Smiling at him, gently, Bitty said, “You’re so good, Jack. Time to nap?” Jack took a moment, but ended up nodding his head, still slouched against Bitty. “Come on, sweetheart,” Bitty said, standing up and reaching out a hand to help Jack up. They walked over to the bed, and Jack collapsed into it almost instantly. “Want me to get you some water, honey?”

Jack turned his head to the side to respond, “No,” he took a pause, “Just stay with me?”

“Of course,” Bitty told him, feeling a swell of affection in his chest. This boy. Bitty pulled the black-out curtains across the window and then crawled into bed, folding his legs just a little, so that Jack could press his chest against Bitty’s back, arm coming around to hold Bitty tightly. When he was settled, Jack pressed a kiss to Bitty’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Jack hummed, sounding content but tired nonetheless. He shifted his arms just a little to tangle his fingers with Bitty’s. “Yeah, Bits. Thank you.” Jack’s voice was quiet. He let the silence stretch between them for a moment or two, a subtle tenseness growing in his shoulders. “You’re not, just—It’s not just for me, right?” Jack sounded concerned, doubt creeping into him as he thought about it.

“Oh, Jack,” Bitty sighed, holding his hand just a little bit tighter. “Out of all the years you’ve known me, when have I ever done something that I didn’t want to do?” Bitty felt Jack relax immediately. “Kent is sweet, and… and _quite_ attractive, and I think we could make it work,” Bitty said, and he swore could feel Jack’s heartbeat speed up. “Especially now that _I’m_ here. I’ll make sure we all talk like adults, and there won’t be any more miscommunication just because you two are so _dense_ ,” he explained, trying to make the conversation light so that it didn’t feel so big for Jack. “Now, does that sound alright to you?”

Jack huffed a laugh, and for Bitty, it felt even better than scoring the game-winning goal on home ice. “Yeah, Bits, that sounds alright.” Jack pressed closer to Bitty, slowing down his breathing so he could settle into sleep.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Bitty whispered against Jack’s skin.

Bitty couldn’t fall asleep. Over and over, he tried to come up with what to say to Kent without scaring him off. Distantly, he had been aware that he wanted this, but he had mostly been focused on what Jack wanted. Now, listening to the quiet sound of Jack breathing, Bitty was hit with exactly how much he wanted this, and what he’d do to get it.

 _jack and i wanted to invite you over for dinner_ , Bitty texted him, after he’d grabbed his phone and gave up on napping.

It was one in the morning where Bitty was, so he was pretty sure that Kent would still be up. Minutes later, he got a response.

_really?_

_yes, really_ , Bitty replied, and added on, _i’ll make you whatever kind of pie you want_

 _shit uhh_ , Kent said back, _hows ur cherry?_ Not even a second passed before he got, _jesus fuck ur cherry pie hows ur cherry pie_ , and then, _u know what never mind i’ll go with apple_

 _good lord, parson_ , Bitty sent, and bit his lip to try to stop the stupid smile from taking over his face. It didn’t work very well. _does saturday work for you?_

 _yeah i can make it there at about 7 probably_ , Kent said. _zimms okay with this?_

Instead of rolling his eyes, Bitty winced, just a little, because he knew where the doubt was coming from. _of course jack is okay with this_

 _sorry i just wasnt sure bc of last time_ , Kent replied.

 _he’s looking forward to seeing you_ , Bitty sent, and, impulsively, _so am i_

 _i’ll see you saturday, then_ , Kent said. Bitty stared at the text until his phone dimmed, and then he closed his eyes.

Bitty didn’t think Jack would be this nervous, especially since he and Kent have done this before. Bitty was the one who was new to this, to Kent, to Jack and Kent _together_ . Before Bitty had noticed the tense line of Jack’s shoulders, he’d had his own doubts, too—what if Jack and Kent were better off without him; what if the only thing they needed was time, and not Bitty to keep them from collapsing in on themselves; what if Jack stopped wanting the both of them and only wanted Kent; what if Kent didn’t even _like_ Bitty, put up with him because he knew this was his only way to be with Jack? Sure, Bitty was confident, he liked himself enough, but he was still worried.

Of course, Bitty took one look at Jack and knew. The stiff muscle in his jaw, the furrow between his brows, the lips bitten so red Bitty was afraid Jack had broken skin—Jack was nervous. It wasn’t the tight, oppressive anxiousness, but it was enough for Bitty to abandon all of his worries to focus on Jack.

“What are you worried about, Jack?” Bitty asked him. Jack was laying with his head pillowed on Bitty’s thighs, the both of them watching highlights from Kent’s game last night. He’d be here in a little less than four hours. “Tell me,” Bitty prompted, and then waited patiently for Jack’s response.

“Last time we saw each other—” Jack started, met Bitty’s eyes, saw how unimpressed he was, and stopped. Sighed. “I’m worried it’ll happen again.” Bitty raised his eyebrows, waited for him to go on. “That it’ll—Not go well, it’ll escalate, and we’ll start _fighting_ again—”

Bitty shushed him, smoothed back the hair on Jack’s forehead. “It won’t,” Bitty told him. “It won’t, because _I’m_ here, and you two have already apologized and forgiven each other, so there’s nothing to fight about. We’ll eat dinner and the pie I made and sit on the couch to watch whatever you want. The night can end there, if you want it to, and I’ll make sure Kent knows that he has to drive back tonight,” Bitty explained. “If you don’t want the night to end there, though, then let me know, and trust me enough to take care of it. Okay?”

Jack closed his eyes, like it was still too hard to talk about it, which—Bitty understood, because he was asking his boyfriend to tell him how much he wanted this, and Jack was an open-minded guy, but it seemed surreal to have Bitty and Kent both. It seemed impossible.

“I want him to stay,” Jack told him, eyes still tightly shut. Bitty stroked the side of his face until he met his gaze.

“Good,” Bitty said, and watched the tension ease out of Jack. “I do, too.” Jack sat up, abruptly, and tugged Bitty closer to him, fit their mouths together and kissed him like it was the only way he could say thank you. Bitty laughed, a little incredulously, because Jack was smart, but he still hasn’t gotten it through his thick skull that he’s allowed to have this. “Jack,” Bitty said, his tone serious but face lit up with affection, “I like Kent, too. Okay? I want this just as much as you do.”

Jack couldn’t believe that, he couldn’t, because he has never wanted anything more in his life—not the Falconers, not the Calder, not even the Stanley fucking Cup—but he could let himself believe that Bitty wanted this, at least a little bit.

“I’m going to start dinner,” Bitty said as he stood up. “Fettuccine okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack answered. He had laid his head back down, this time on a pillow, and was sprawled out on the length of the couch. “It’s Kent’s favorite.”

As Jack shot Bitty a quick, reassuring smile, Bitty said, “Good,” and disappeared into the kitchen.

Kent showed up an excruciating twelve minutes late, with—Bitty could barely hide his smile—a bottle of sparkling grape juice.

“I wasn’t sure, uh—” Kent started to say, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I don’t drink—not anymore, but I figured I should bring something anyway, so—”

“No, no, it’s good,” Bitty told him, letting Kent inside before taking the bottle into the kitchen. Kent toed off his shoes before stepping onto the carpet. Bitty wondered how long it would take before he stopped thinking everything Kent did was so goddamn endearing. “Sit,” Bitty said, nodding towards the dinner table. “I’ll bring it out in just a minute. Jack should be joining us soon, he’s just washing up.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Kent asked, so sincerely that it made Bitty pause for a second, looking at him, considering. Bitty didn’t even think Kent was this nervous the last time they saw each other—although, Bitty guessed that Kent had an idea of what was going to happen after confronting Jack the last time. Now, Kent had no clue. It was unfair, but Bitty still reveled in it.

Bitty handed Kent a stack of plates, along with forks and knives, and asked, “Set the table?”

“Sure thing, Eric,” Kent answered, walking to the table and setting everything down.

“God, no one’s called me Eric since I was in high school,” Bitty said, carrying a dish to where both Kent and Jack were waiting for him, sitting around the table.

Kent exchanged an unreadable look with Jack, before he said, “Bittle, then.”

Dinner didn’t last very long, but Kent told stories about Vegas, and Jack told stories about Providence, and Bitty told stories about his own hometown, ones that even Jack hadn’t heard. When Bitty opened up the sparkling grape juice, Jack laughed, not unkindly, and Kent looked like Jack gave him the moon. To Kent, it was probably the same thing.

Bitty ushered them into the living room, flicking through the channels until deciding on a sports network, where commentators were discussing this year’s Super Bowl predictions.

“Your game went well?” Bitty asked Kent, carrying a cherry pie and a stack of small plates. Once he set them down on the coffee table, Bitty took a seat, not on the other side of Jack but next to Kent, who widened his eyes just a little. Bitty folded his legs under him, gesturing at the pie while he said, “Go ahead.”

Kent cut himself a piece and answered, “Yeah, it was—Good. We won by three points, and Swoops got a goal off my assist, which was—Nice.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Parse,” Jack said, which made Kent jump just a little, looking at Jack like he couldn’t believe he was really there. “I saw a video, the goal was beautiful. It wouldn’t have been, if it weren’t for your assist.”

Kent’s mouth was open, lips parted slightly, unable to even process the compliment. He cleared his throat, coughed into his fist, and changed the subject. He asked, “I thought you were gonna make apple?”

“Well,” Bitty started, not meeting Kent’s eyes, feeling just a little out of his element. “I did, but I made cherry, too, just in case you still wanted some. The apple is in the kitchen.”

“Jesus, Bittle,” Kent exhaled, blowing on the forkful of warm cherry pie before taking a bite. Bitty couldn’t help but feel proud, just a little bit, at the look on Kent’s face as he tasted the pie. “Holy _fuck_. You made two pies just for the hell of it?”

Jack smiled at Bitty over Kent’s shoulder while Bitty answered, “I mean, apple is Jack’s favorite, so it wasn’t for nothing.”

The piece of pie that Kent was eating was almost gone, since he was just short of shoveling it into his mouth, most likely burning the shit out of his tongue.

“Jesus Christ, I’m never leaving,” Kent told them, putting the last bit of the piece of pie in his mouth. Jack, high on his cheeks, turned a bright red, and shifted uncomfortably.

Bitty met Jack’s eyes before he said, “Jack, honey, why don’t you get started on washing the dishes?”

Jack couldn’t will away the flush on his cheeks, but he nodded, standing up and walking towards the kitchen quietly.

As soon as Kent figured Jack couldn’t hear them, he asked, “What am I doing here, Bittle?”

Bitty shifted closer to him, laid his hand gentle on Kent’s wrist, where it was resting on the couch between them. Bitty, looking at Kent from underneath his eyelashes, considering, asked him, “You have anybody waiting on you back in Vegas?” Kent didn’t say anything, just shook his head. “Then, you can either—Well, you can either drive back to your hotel room in Boston, or you can stay the night here,” Bitty paused for emphasis, waited until Kent met his eyes, “With us.”

“If I do—That,” Kent started, “What happens tomorrow?”

Bitty shrugged. “I’ll make breakfast. Omelettes, maybe. We stay in bed until you have to fly back to Vegas. You visit us whenever you’re on the east coast.”

“And this is just—Just for when I’m in Providence?” Kent asked.

Bitty looked at him, unimpressed. In a very quiet voice, he said, “Jack never stopped loving you.” He paused, watched Kent shake, just a little, trying to find out if he could see the beating of his heart through his shirt. “And I _guess_ , like a cold, I caught it, too.” Bitty grinned at Kent.

“God,” Kent said, on an exhale, relief coloring his voice.

Bitty stood up, holding out his hand for Kent to take. They walked into the kitchen, where Jack was standing at the sink, methodically washing their plates and silverware. Once Bitty cleared his throat, Jack turned around, started to dry his hands with a small smile on his face.

Jack came closer to them, in the entryway of the kitchen, and cradled Kent’s jaw in his hands, said, “Hey, Kenny.”

Kent gave a choked laugh that sounded like relief, responded with, “Zimms,” and Jack bent down to kiss him. Bitty watched the familiarity between them, Jack kissing him like he was coming home after a long day, soft and sweet and full of promise. Tender.

Maybe Bitty did feel a little bit of jealousy, but it wasn’t because someone else was kissing Jack. If anything, it was because they were kissing each other, and he wanted to be the one who was doing the kissing, to both Jack _and_ Kent.

Bitty gave them a few moments, brushed his thumb along the knuckles of Kent’s hand he was still holding. Growing impatient, Bitty insisted, “My turn.”

They broke the kiss. Kent must have thought that Bitty meant it was his turn to kiss Jack, because he was still looking like he was caught getting away with something, so Bitty used his free hand to tilt Kent’s jaw towards him and press their lips together. Kent quickly caught on to the fact that although Bitty was sweet and small, he was leading the kiss, and Kent was helpless to do anything but follow him.

Bitty bit down on Kent’s bottom lip, which made Kent gasp, and they heard Jack say, softly, “Christ.” Bitty pulled back, smiled at the both of them, and walked down the hall to the bedroom, both Kent and Jack following behind him.

They went to Jack’s bedroom, passing the guest bedroom that everyone thought Bitty slept in when he stayed here. Jack’s bedroom had a giant bed, with half a dozen pillows and sheets that felt like a well-loved, favorite shirt, because Jack didn’t like the feeling of the silky ones.

Bitty moved so that he was guiding Jack back to sit on the bed, pressing barely-there kisses on his neck at the same time. Jack shifted, got in a better position, and Bitty had Kent sit right next to him, thighs pressed together, shoulders brushing.

They were both looking at Bitty almost helplessly as he climbed onto Jack’s lap, straddling Jack’s legs with his own thighs spread wide. Bitty pushed his hand up under Jack’s shirt, just resting over his abdomen, and he could feel each wave of arousal in the way that Jack tensed up.

Bitty was looking at Jack, but he said, “Kiss him, Kent,” and then watched. Jack stayed still, his head turned just the slightest bit so that Kent could kiss him. Kent brought his hand up to wrap it in Jack’s hair, the other reaching forward to settle on Bitty’s waist. The kiss was equal parts careless and tentative—Careless, because it had been years, and who could keep track of tongues or teeth? Tentative, because Kent still wanted to take his time, wanted to draw out each press of lips, wanted to _memorize_ it, because he hadn’t let himself before.

Ducking his head, Bitty put his mouth on the muscle of Jack’s neck, gentle, at first, before biting at it, watching a red mark appear and fade away within seconds. He heard Jack breathe harshly into Kent’s mouth, and if he shifted, on top of Jack, he could feel the hard length of his cock pressed against him.

Kent broke the kiss and slumped over to rest his head against the curve of Jack’s shoulder, the grip of his fingers tightening just so on Bitty’s hips. Bitty leaned forward, pressed his mouth to Jack’s that was more bite than kiss, listened for the answering gasp before soothing the sting.

Bitty rocked his hips, gently, to the same rhythm that their mouths moved in, one that had been practiced to perfection.

“Holy _shit_ , you guys are…” Kent said, sounding wrecked. That, and the way Jack chased his lips when he broke away, made Bitty feel proud of himself.

Bitty turned to him, letting Jack catch his breath, and teased, wearing a smile, “We’re what?” Kent’s mouth, red from being kissed, looked so _inviting_ , so Bitty leaned in and pressed their lips together. Bitty continued the rhythm, rocking onto Jack on every downbeat, hearing the resulting huff of breath that Jack made against Bitty’s shoulder.

On a whim, because he wanted to see what would happen, Bitty bit down on Kent’s lip, harder than before, just shy of too much. Kent groaned into Bitty’s mouth, couldn’t help it, and clutched at his hip harder.

“Bits,” Jack said, but it sounded like a plea. He was breathing hard, even though all they’d done was make out.

Bitty pulled away from this kiss, took a second to breathe, before he said, “Alright, sweetheart.” He climbed off of Jack to kneel on the bed, up by the headboard, and motioned for Kent. “Come here, sit,” he said, flushing a little at how demanding he was being. Kent did it, though, and was situated with his back pressed to Bitty’s chest. “Jack?” Jack moved towards them, sat back on his heels between Kent’s  while he waited for direction. “You wanna suck him off?” Jack nodded his head, almost eagerly, and Kent took a deep breath while his eyes fluttered shut. “Ask him nicely, then.”

Jack was looking at him when Kent opened his eyes. In a low, quiet voice, Jack asked, “Please, can I suck your cock, Kenny?” He rested a hand on the bone of Kent’s knee, his thumb brushing against it on instinct.

“God, yes, Zimms, you can—” Kent answered, his voice strained.

Bitty shifted behind Kent, said, right behind his ear, “Take your shirt off for me, okay?” Then, “You, too, Jack.” Kent sat up a little to pull his shirt over his head, but the moment it was gone, he leaned back against Bitty, head falling onto Bitty’s shoulder. Jack took his own off with the efficiency that came with growing up in a locker room. Bitty said to Jack, “Go ahead, honey.”

Jack ducked his head while he fumbled with Kent’s pants, tapped his fingers against Kent’s hip until Kent lifted up, enough that Jack could drag them down the rest of the way, unhooking them from Kent’s ankles and tossing them on the floor.

Settling against the bed, Jack leaned forward, pressed a kiss to Kent’s bare stomach before he was moving lower, running his lips and his nose down the outline of Kent’s cock in his briefs.

With gentle fingers, Jack took Kent out of his briefs, gave him a light stroke before he took him into his mouth. Jack’s eyes fluttered closed as he kept his tongue soft, sucking Kent’s cock into his throat. It was too much, too soon, and Jack pulled off to gasp wetly against Kent’s thigh.

“Slow,” Bitty reminded him, from where he was positioned behind Kent. Bitty had his fingers wrapped in Kent’s hair, keeping Kent down and laying against him, and Jack met his eyes briefly, before he nodded and took Kent into his mouth again.

Jack closed his lips around Kent, used his hands to steady himself. Kent shifted against the bed, against Bitty’s hold, and said, “Fucking shit,” hips pushing up into Jack’s mouth. Jack’s throat fluttered around him, barely, until it opened and Kent could shift upwards, just a little bit more.

“Go on, Jack,” Bitty said, right next to Kent’s ear, his voice sweet, encouraging. “You can take it, right?” Jack made a muffled noise of affirmation, swallowed around another inch of Kent’s cock. “See, Kent, he can do it. Fuck his mouth, a little,” Bitty told him, and Kent was helpless against the soft, insistent voice in his ear.

“Oh, fuck,” Kent said, shifting his hips up, pushing into Jack’s mouth, which stayed open, for him, ready and waiting.

Bitty moved against Kent’s back, and Kent could feel—Bitty’s cock, pressed against his back, seeking out friction. In between stuttered breaths, his voice low but loud enough that Jack could hear, Bitty said, “He looks good, doesn’t he, Kent?” Kent, who was nodding, a little wildly, fucked into the heat of Jack’s mouth. “He loves this, he’s so good at it. Can’t take too much, but he _wants_ to, gets frustrated when he chokes. He wants to be so good for us. Don’t you, Jack,” Bitty said, but it wasn’t a question, it was a certainty, an assurance.

Jack pulled off of Kent’s cock, coughing and heaving in gulps of air.

“Jesus fucking—” Kent started to say, broke off into a low moan when Jack picked up where he left off, this time with more determination, like if he could just _will_ his throat into relaxing, it would. Kent couldn’t believe what the _fuck_ was happening--he and Jack had messed around in Juniors, but it was nothing like this; it was listening to each other jerk off in the bed next to them, messy handjobs in the dark, Kent going to his knees to give a sloppy blowjob.

This was, God, _more_. Bitty had Jack wrapped around his finger, and if Kent was being honest, with a few words, he’d be wrapped around Bitty’s finger, too. He was starting to see the appeal.

“Come on, Kent,” Bitty said, and there it was, Kent would do anything he asked. “Look, he’s trying so hard. Come in his mouth, okay? He wants it, I wanna see him try, do it,” Bitty told him, before ducking his head to bite at his neck, and Kent was helpless.

Kent pushed up into the slickness of Jack’s mouth, twisting his fingers in Jack’s hair, shuddering against Bitty like he couldn’t help it. He _couldn’t_ , could barely keep his eyes open, but he wanted to see Jack, who had his lips stretched wide around Kent, red from being used, his face blotchy with arousal, an impossible shine on his chin, from his spit, because he was drooling, gagging himself on Kent’s cock, and Kent said, in a rush, “Holy _fuck_ —God, Zimms, shit,” and he cradled Jack’s jaw in his hand, felt, in the hollow of Jack’s cheeks, his own cock. “Bittle, I’m gonna—Christ, fuck,” Kent said, thrust his hips up sharply, and came into Jack’s mouth.

Jack tried, he really did, but he was choking, and he only swallowed some of it. The rest, though, spilled down his chin, and he looked wrecked, because he _was_. He was hard and pressing against the bed, just for a little bit of relief. He had his eyes closed, his head resting on Kent’s thigh, and his chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Immediately, Bitty moved from behind Kent, getting closer to Jack, so he could smooth back the hair on his forehead and wipe his chin off with his fingers, pushing the come into his mouth.

“Good, Jack, that was perfect,” Bitty told him, helping Jack sit up. They kissed, soft and slow, until Bitty pulled away to say, “So good for us, sweetheart. Right, Kent?”

Kent, who was trying to get his breathing under control, moved closer to Jack, flicked his eyes towards Bitty briefly, just to check, before pulling Jack in for a kiss. “Fucking hell, Jack,” he said, during the time it took to pause between kisses for air. “That was—Shit, I don’t even know.” Kent ran out of words, looked to Bitty for help, but all Bitty did was kiss him, and, if Kent was being honest, it was filthy. The stark contrast of how sweet Bitty was, most of the time, and how he was _here_ , in bed, giving Jack what he asked for but only when Bitty wanted him to have it. Kent broke the kiss, because his dick was trying to get hard even though it hadn’t even been more than a couple of minutes. Kent told them, “You guys are—unreal, I’m ruined for anybody else, nothing’s ever gonna come close to that.”

Jack’s eyes darkened, and his gaze dropped from Kent’s eyes to Kent’s lips, then shifted over to Bitty, a silent request for—something, Kent didn’t know.

Bitty, without taking his eyes off Jack, said to Kent, “Grab the lube, please. First drawer,” and Kent choked before he complied. As Kent did what he was told, Bitty stripped out of his clothes, letting them pool on the floor beside the bed. Bitty laid Jack back against the sheets, got his clothes off him and made room between his thighs.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Kent said, soft but heartfelt, as he tossed the lube next to Bitty and got on the bed himself. His eyes were wide and his mouth slightly open, shocked.

“Sit behind him,” Bitty said, “Like how I was with you, okay?” Kent nodded and got in position, letting Jack rest his head against his own thigh. Bitty pressed his thumb against Jack, dry, tugged a little as his rim. Jack jolted. “What do you think, Kent? Now, or later?” Bitty asked, his tone casual. Kent looked down at Jack, brushed his fingers through Jack’s hair. Bitty’s question was either rhetorical or Kent’s answer didn’t matter, because he continued, “You’ve been so good, Jack, maybe you can pick. You wanna come now, or later?”

Jack took several deep breaths before answering, “Later, Bits, but—” He paused, bit at his lip a little. His voice was scratchy, and Kent felt a sharp stab of _want_ when he realized it was because Jack had choked on his dick, earlier. Bitty stilled his movements, save for the hand that was resting against Jack’s thigh, more soothing than distracting. “Not too long, please?”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Bitty reassured, and covered two fingers with a generous amount of lube. The first finger went in easy, and Jack relaxed into it, sighing a little, his eyes drooping. Bitty’s thumb brushed the skin of Jack’s inner knee while he fucked his finger in and out, slowly, letting Jack get used to the feeling. Bitty was looking for any sign of discomfort in Jack’s face, but his gaze shifted upwards, and he met Kent’s eyes, gave him a small smile like they were sharing a secret. Bitty made sure he didn’t hit Jack’s prostate, because he wasn’t going to set Jack up to fail. “You want another?”

“Yes,” Jack answered, his voice low, and Bitty waited until he opened his eyes to push in the second finger. Jack couldn’t keep them open for long, and as they shut, he made a soft, pleased sound.

Kent was still brushing Jack’s hair back, like he was trying to soothe him, calm him down, and Jack pushed his head up into it, arched his back a little, pushed himself down onto Bitty’s fingers.

“He’s—God, he’s shameless,” Kent stated, mostly to himself, but it didn’t matter, because Jack heard him. Jack shut his eyes tightly, tensed every single muscle in his body, and Kent started to stammer, “Sorry, sorry, was that—”

Bitty wrapped his fingers around the base of Jack’s cock, hard enough that his knuckles turned white, and said, “I’ve got you, Jack, I’m not gonna let you come.”

Up by the headboard, Kent struggled to get enough air in his lungs, because he _got it_ , he talked about Jack like he wasn’t there, said he was _shameless_ , and Jack was going to come immediately, just from that and two fingers in his ass.

“Holy shit,” Kent said, because he couldn’t help it. Listen, he lived in _Vegas_ , okay, he’d been apart of some shit, mostly along the lines of hotel room orgies, but this was definitely the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.

Bitty took his hand off Jack’s cock, moved it so that it was brushing over his thigh. “You okay now, Jack?” he asked, waiting patiently for Jack’s reply.

Jack took in a few deep breaths before he answered, “Yeah,” nodding his head and reaching his hand just above him, where he could tangle his fingers with Kent’s.

“Are you ready for three?” Bitty asked him, and Jack was nodding his head before he even ended the question. Bitty took his fingers out, Jack whining at the loss, and slicked them with lube. He eased them in, and it was snug, Bitty’s fingers not particularly thick but enough to stretch him.

Bitty thrust his fingers in and out a few times, let Jack really feel it, and he told him, “Good, Jack, you’re taking it so well,” which made Jack moan, a barely-there sound from the back of his throat.

“Okay, okay,” Jack said, breathing harshly. “Fuck me, Bits, please.”

The minute the fingers were gone, Bitty’s cock was filling the empty space, his hips thrusting into Jack, not fast but hard. Bitty hauled Jack’s legs up, as much as he could, and fucked into him at an angle that stroked over his prostate, which made Jack whine.

It was hard, trying to keep his composure, but Bitty did it for Jack, because he knew that Jack loved it when he was like this. So, Bitty said, sounding entirely out of breath, “Put your fingers in his mouth, Kent,” and then, “He’s been so good, right? He deserves it.”

“Here, Jack, here you go,” Kent said. The angle was awkward, but he pushed two fingers between Jack’s lips and felt Jack’s tongue curl around them. Jack met Kent’s eyes, just for a second, before they slipped shut.

Bitty got his hand on Jack’s cock, stroked it in time with the thrust of his hips, said, “Go ahead, honey, you can come,” and then Jack did, with a groan, and Kent thought that it was probably the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen _or_ heard, if he was being honest.

Bitty fucked him through it, milked Jack’s cock until Jack was squirming, whining around the fingers in his mouth. Then, his hips stilled, and he waited until Jack caught his breath. Kent took his fingers out of Jack's mouth.

“Fuck me, Bits, want you to come,” Jack said, insistent, fucking himself back on Bitty.

Bitty started to thrust again, watching closely for any sign of discomfort in Jack. There was none, so Bitty fucked him with the intention of coming, driven closer by the quiet whimpers Jack was making.

Kent watched, avidly, at the scene in front of him. Bitty, fucking Jack selfishly. Jack, reveling in it, how it was too much, his own cock not even bothering to soften, because he was getting worked up again.

Bitty was quiet when he came, which Kent figured, his hands gripping Jack’s thighs as he sighed softly, drawing the last of it out. Kent was impressed by how quickly Bitty seemed to gather himself, but it wasn’t that, it was just—the way he was with Jack. He didn’t have to try, it came naturally.

After he pulled out, gently, Bitty leaned over Jack, pressed his lips to Jack’s forehead, caressed his cheekbone. He said, “You’re perfect, Jack, that was so good,” then ducked down to kiss him. “You were so good for me,” Bitty told him, and Jack was still trying to catch his breath, but he basked in the praise. Bitty glanced up, looked at Kent, and then asked, “You wanna be good for Kent, too?”

“Yeah,” answered Jack, and he tilted his head to look up at Kent. “C’mon, Kenny, fuck me,” and Kent couldn’t say no, didn’t _want_ to say no, so he moved around on the bed until he was kneeling between Jack’s spread thighs. Bitty moved, too, pulled his briefs back on before sitting next to Jack on the bed.

“You sure?” Kent asked, just to be safe. Jack looked—gorgeous, obviously, his face was red and he had come on his stomach, but he looked thoroughly fucked, and Kent didn’t want to push.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Jack said; his eyes were bright and he was smiling lazily. “You think you can go again?” he asked, and he definitely meant for it to be a chirp, but he was underneath Kent and asking to be fucked, so it didn’t work all that much.

Kent rolled his eyes at him, anyway, and let his fingers smooth down the back of his thigh, further, until he was touching where Jack was open, fucked loose from Bitty’s dick and wet with Bitty’s come. Lost in it, Kent pushed a finger in, thought, distantly, that he might not even need any lube, and Jack hummed, shifted his hips into the touch. Kent felt Bitty looking at him, and when he met his eyes, Bitty nodded.

Truthfully, Kent had been hard since Jack came, so it was a relief to push into Jack, the heat around his cock feeling like—he didn’t know, he didn’t have the words, something amazing.

“ _Fuck_ , Zimms,” Kent said, lowly. Bitty’s cock wasn’t small, by any means, but Kent’s was bigger, and Jack felt every inch of him. Kent started to thrust shallowly, barely pulling out because he couldn’t stand not being inside Jack.

Kent didn’t realize he closed his eyes, but once he opened them, he saw Bitty leaning over and kissing Jack, deeply, and Jack broke the kiss to muffle a groan behind his own fist.

“Honey, we wanna hear you,” Bitty said, taking Jack’s hand away from his mouth. Every time Kent fucked back in, another sound was coming out of Jack, let loose from his chest.

It was almost painful, how hard Kent was, especially being the second time tonight, but he knew it felt like more, for Jack, and it would take a lot to make him admit it, but, _God_ , it was hot. That, coupled with the fact that he got to do this, with Jack, with _Bitty_ , the two people he thought were an impossibility—well, Kent was lost in it.

Bitty reached for Jack’s cock, his strokes gentle, but Kent knew it was just shy of too much. Bitty said, “God, Jack, you’re so good—” Jack tensed, his body fighting the inevitability of another orgasm, his _second_ , which would have to be dragged out of him. “So good for me, both of you, my boys—”

Of course, that was what did him in. Coming knocked the fucking breath out of him, and all he could do was tremble through it, aware he was making embarrassing noises but not finding it in himself to care, not when Jack was tightening around him and coming for a second time, whining high in the back of his throat.

Kent was exhausted, his bones aching. Each breath he took was shaky. Jack, spread out beneath him, looked completely fucked out, so Kent reached down to kiss him.

“Kent?” Bitty asked, his voice small. Kent looked at him, kissed him, too, let it linger for a while. He felt Bitty smile against his lips. After breaking away, Bitty said, “I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t leave him,” and ducked out of the room.

Jack looked like he was dozing, and Kent collapsed next to him, keeping contact, his hand skimming up Jack’s ribs. Very quietly, he said, “Fucking hell, Zimms,” and even though Jack was thoroughly _debauched_ , he gave Kent a smug smile.

Bitty came back and with a warm, wet cloth in one hand and three forks and a half-empty pie tin in the other. Once he put the pie tin and forks aside, Bitty sat on the bed, took the cloth and smoothed it over Jack’s stomach, wiping up the mess. Bitty kissed him lazily, running the cloth up the inside of his thighs, where he knew Jack would be the messiest.

“It’s gonna be worse in the morning,” Bitty told him, just as a warning, and he didn’t mean for it to make Jack shiver, but Jack did, and he _definitely_ didn’t mean for it to make Kent shiver, but Kent did, too, because the thought of Jack with both of their come smearing on the inside of his thighs all night would have been enough to have his cock hard all over again, if he hadn’t felt completely wiped out. Bitty asked, “You need something else, Jack?”  

Jack shook his head, cleared his throat, answered, “No, but—” he paused, looked towards the bedside table. “S’that the cherry pie?”

“Yeah,” Bitty answered, taking a minute to shuffle up the bed a bit, “Toss me that water bottle, honey?” he asked, waving his hand in that general direction. Nobody moved, for a moment, and Bitty didn’t think much of it until Jack started to shift. “Not you, Jack, stay—Kent?”

Kent kind of felt like someone had just poured ice water over him, but he grabbed the water bottle for Bitty, still feeling shocked, because that meant Bitty called him _honey_ , and if Kent had any more doubts, that took care of them.

Bitty uncapped the water bottle while Kent brought the pie tin over to them, setting it in the middle of the bed. Jack was being stubborn, unsurprisingly, and Bitty had to threaten adding heaps of sugar into his protein shake powder before Jack took a drink.

Kent didn’t feel like he was intruding, which was weird, because he had expected to, but he supposed he couldn’t if Jack was stabbing him with the tines of the fork every time Kent stole a bite from his side of the pie tin. Bitty was laughing at them, and Kent was laughing, too, and Jack was doing that thing where he was smiling softly and looking at you with unbearable fondness in his eyes.

Eventually, Bitty declared that it was time to go to sleep, and laid half on top of Jack with the covers down at the end of the bed. Bitty stretched, and Kent fell guilty to looking at his lean muscles pull tight, _especially_ across his abdomen, but Jack was guilty, too. “Kent,” Bitty said, halfway through a yawn, something about his voice that couldn’t be placed, “Will you go turn the lights off?”

There it was, what couldn’t be placed before, Bitty using the sweetness in his voice to manipulate Kent into doing things for him, which Kent was _all for_ , he didn’t even care. He stood and switched the lights off, coming back to the bed and bringing the covers up to them.

Kent crawled into bed next to Jack, kept himself very, very still for a couple of seconds, before he decided that it was really too late to second-guess himself, especially when Jack already knew he slept like an octopus, clung onto the other person. So, Kent fell asleep pressed against Jack, with Bitty on the other side, Bitty’s arm wrapped around Jack’s middle far enough that he was holding onto Kent, too.

In the morning, Kent woke up to the smell of food cooking in the kitchen and the soft sounds of Bitty singing. Jack was still in bed with him, which made Kent feel something that wasn’t necessarily good _or_ bad, but something that he should get used to, anyway.

Kent got out of bed, gentle enough that it didn’t wake Jack, and walked out of the bedroom, quiet enough to go unnoticed. On the way to the bathroom, Kent looked into the kitchen, saw Bitty standing at the stove and making up his own dance to whatever song was playing from his phone. Bitty hadn’t seen him, yet, so Kent figured he’d leave him be and jump in the shower.

The water was hot enough to turn his skin pink, but Kent didn’t mind, his thoughts were elsewhere. He wasn’t sure what to make of all this, still didn’t know where has was supposed to fit in, exactly. Maybe that was enough for Jack and Bitty, and he’d go back to Vegas where he didn’t have anything like this.

Kent’s thoughts were interrupted when the shower curtain was pulled back, just a little, and Jack stepped inside. Jack moved in close to Kent, who could only stare back at him, shocked. Jack tilted his head down, told him, “I brushed my teeth,” as if Kent cared about morning breath, and kissed him. As he reached behind Kent to grab a bottle of shampoo, he asked, “Did you already wash your hair?”

“No,” Kent answered, but his voice was kind of far away.

Jack put some of the shampoo in his hands and brought it up to Kent’s head, started to work it through his hair. Admittedly, it felt good as shit, so Kent let his eyes flutter closed while Jack did his thing. Jack put his hands on the back of Kent’s neck and tilted his head towards the shower spray.

“Bitty’s gonna have breakfast done soon,” Kent reminded him, but Jack didn’t care, he kept his hands on Kent and ducked down for another kiss, drawing this one out. One kiss turned into two, which turned into Kent letting Jack make out with him under the shower spray, grinding against Jack’s hip when he was fully hard.

Jack pushed him up against the tile wall, slick and cold against Kent’s back, and wrapped his hand around Kent’s cock. Kent shuddered, let his head fall back and his hips buck into Jack’s fist. Jack had big enough hands, so he pressed their cocks together and wrapped one around them both, stroking quickly, his grip firm.

“Oh, God,” Kent choked out, because it had been seconds, maybe, and he could feel his orgasm within reach. Jack put his lips to Kent’s neck, sucked a mark into his skin that would probably fade away in a day or two, but it didn’t matter, because, and Kent was embarrassingly sure of this, it was the spot that Jack had always left a mark at. “Zimms, this isn’t gonna—” he broke off to moan, continued with, “This isn’t gonna last long, _fuck_ , I can’t—”

“S’okay, Kenny,” Jack said, and Kent heard the hitch in his breath, which was what made him come, because he knew that Jack was close, too. Kent’s moans sounded loud in the shower, but Jack’s moans sounded louder. Jack was right behind him, spilling into his fist and over Kent, evidence marked on their skin for seconds before the water washed it away.

Jack kissed him, gently, which shook Kent down to his core, but whatever. Kent was leaning against the tile wall while he waited for Jack to finish up, washing his own hair, none of the care he had for Kent’s present.

Kent was still kind of shaking, mostly because he just came, but a little bit because he still couldn’t believe this was happening. The immediate temperature difference didn’t help, either.

Jack dried him off with a giant fluffy towel, which felt warmer that it probably was, in hindsight. Kent put his own clothes on, because he was still an adult, but he came close to debating whether or not he would let Jack do it.

In the kitchen, Bitty was finishing up one of the omelettes. Kent stood at the end of the counter while he watched Jack walk up to Bitty, slip his arms around his waist and press a kiss to the top of his head. Bitty took one look at Jack, then one look at Kent, and narrowed his eyes.

“You really couldn’t have waited until _after_ breakfast?” Bitty asked, but he was mostly teasing. “ _Boys_ ,” he scoffed, turning back to preparing the food, “What am I gonna do with you?”

Jack shot Kent a smug look and answered, “I could think of a few things.”

“I’m _sure you could_ , Mr. Zimmermann,” Bitty said. “Eat your breakfast.”

They sat around the table they ate dinner at, and Kent genuinely can’t believe how much things had changed since then. Kent would be embarrassed, but he’s _allowed_ to be emotional, okay, this was— _J_ __es_ us Christ _ —the love of his life and maybe even the _other_ love of his life.

When they all finished, Bitty didn’t even bother with the dishes.

“We’re going back to bed,” Bitty insisted, “just because _you two_ got to take a refreshing shower doesn’t mean we all did.” Neither Jack or Kent argued, because sleeping in for a few more hours did sound amazing, and both of them would gladly use their rest day for this. “Come on, I call the middle.”

Kent felt something warm stir inside him, ridiculously. He waited until they climbed into bed to see where he was going to fit. Bitty went immediately to the middle, just like he said, and laid facing Jack, his eyes already closed. Trying not to disturb them too much, Kent climb in behind Bitty, pressed himself against Bitty’s back, just barely.

Bitty, not having it, shifted back, enough that Kent was curled around him completely, and made a pleased sound when he was satisfied.

Kent looked up and saw Jack watching them, a small smile on his face.

There were a million things Kent could be worrying about, but instead, he decided to shove those thoughts down and enjoy the time he had with Jack and Bitty. He’d have to fly back to Vegas soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> i said fuck 34 times in this
> 
> list of kinks: light dom/sub, (huge) praise kink*, dirty talk, mentions of exhibitionism/voyeurism, minimal face fucking, facials, overstimulation (not extreme), and lots of aftercare involved. i might be missing some but i've been staring at this for hours so i apologize in advance!
> 
> i'm on tumblr and twitter at ganymedie
> 
> thank you for reading this! 
> 
> * i think jack deserves to be told good things constantly because he's good and trying so hard and needs to be reminded so that comes into play here


End file.
